I was sitting at a table in the cafeteria with Daisy and she was telling me about how some people in her Art class were talking about the scene that took place yesterday, but I wasn't really listening.

I don't understand what it is with Callum Nikolai. I do want to know him, but I don't quite understand why. He's like a mystery I'm very eager to solve, but I don't want anybody to know that I'm trying to solve it.

"Daisy," I sighed.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why is everyone so scared of Callum?"

She stopped eating and everything else with it. I don't know if she was even breathing. "I don't really know," she cleared her throat.

"Why are you so scared of him?"

"I'm not scared of him, per se. I just don't mess with him. Ignorance is bliss, you know. But make it avoidance."

"But why is he so... what is the word for it?"

"Intimidating?"

"No."

"Secretive?"

"Kind of."

"Mysterious?"

"Yeah!" I slumped in my seat. "I want to know more about him, don't you?"

She looked at me like I was crazy. Which, maybe I am for admitting that. "No, Clara. No, I don't."

"I don't get it," I mumbled. "He seems normal to me, just a little mysterious and... dark."

That's the word for him.

He's a mess of gorgeous chaos, and you can see it in his eyes.

"What I don't understand is why you want to—" She stopped talking, looking behind me, tilting her head up a little. Clearly, someone is standing behind me.

I turned around and looked up, seeing Callum and Wyatt.

"Hey," Wyatt grinned, sitting in the chair to my left on our round table for four.

And then Callum sat in the seat to my right.

I looked between the two of them and then at the rest of the cafeteria. Who was staring and whispering not-so-discreetly?

"What are you guys doing here?" I asked.

"He brought me," Wyatt said, nodding at Callum while setting his bag on the ground.

I turned to Callum, lifting a brow. He spent his entire free period in my room and we talked a little bit. He asked me questions and I answered. He would dodge all of mine. I told him about moving here, my life in New York, but the accident was off-limits. For him, everything was off-limits.

"Have you done your history essay?" he asked, ignoring the look I gave him.

"Yeah, I did it before sleeping last night."

"Do you want me to submit it for you? He didn't ask for it, but he doesn't normally accept late assignments," he informed me.

I was about to answer but then I realized that the entire room was silent. And staring. "Why is it so quiet here?" I mumbled.

"Because he's making history," Wyatt snorted, wincing when Callum kicked his leg under the table.

"Making history?" I questioned.

"Callum never sits at any table but his," Wyatt continued anyway, ignoring Callum's glares. "And he never sits with anybody."

"Except you?"

He nodded, turning to me.

"Your paper?" Callum repeated.

"I'll give it to you after lunch," I agreed.

The rest of lunch went by in a somewhat awkward silence that Wyatt tried his hardest to fill. He talked a lot with Daisy, actually, mainly about art since they share that class. "Do you have a free period after this?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Me too, do you want to go start the next paintings?"

"Sure."

Around five minutes later, lunch ended and they went their way, leaving me with Callum. He grabbed a cupcake on the way out and handed it to me.

"What do I do with this?"

"What do people do with a cupcake?"

"Eat it, smash it in someone's face, the list goes on," I snorted, licking the icing off.

He glanced at me shaking his head. There was a group of boys, they seemed a little younger than us, and they were kicking around a football, heading to the field, I assume. Callum grabbed my arm and pulled me aside, making room for them to pass. I glanced at him, noticing the very faint scar on his chin.

"How did you get that?" I asked when we resumed walking.

He looked at me and I pointed to my chin. "I hit my chin on the edge of the pool as a kid."

I winced as we reached the staircase, stopping abruptly when I saw Finn and one of his other friends, I think he's Ethan. They were coming downstairs, we were going upstairs.

Callum grabbed my arm, putting me between him and the wall, so he was between me and the two of them. "Keep walking," he nodded at me.

I hesitantly kept walking until we passed them. "Don't you have class?" I frowned in confusion.

"I'm busy."

"With what?"

"This new girl, have you met her yet?"

I rolled my eyes. "I keep telling you, you don't have to do this if you don't want to," I groaned, repeating the same thing for the billionth time.

"Did I say I don't want to?" We stopped in front of my door and he turned to me, waiting for me to unlock the door.

"Do you?" I inquired.

"Open the door," he huffed.

"Why would you want to take care of me?" I narrowed my eyes at him. "You don't even know me."

He sighed, grabbing the key that was hanging from my belt loop and detaching it. His fingers grazed the waistband of my jeans, touching my skin where my shirt was tied into a knot at the end.

The lamp above us flickered in the ceiling, snapping me out of my daze as he unlocked the door and then pushed me inside before following me, closing the door behind him.

"Didn't I explain to you this morning that I'm the only one that can really help you?"

"Just because you're the only one who can doesn't mean you have to," I said pointedly.

"But just because I normally wouldn't, doesn't mean I won't."

"Normally wouldn't?" I repeated. "You told me this isn't your first time taking care of a new student."

"It isn't. But normally, taking care means showing them around, telling them the directions to a classroom, making sure they don't get lost."

"So, you haven't helped a student like this before?"

"No," he sighed.

"Then why are you helping me?" I asked, walking to my desk and throwing the cupcake wrapper in the trash. I turned around but he was standing right in front of me, the front of his shoes nearly touching mine.

He leaned forward, putting the keys to my room on the desk behind me, his fingers brushing my arm while he retreated his arm. "New students are normally told everything about the school before they join."

"Wasn't I?" My brows furrowed in confusion.

"The principal can answer that. I don't know what they told you. It doesn't seem like it was enough." He grabbed the copy of Serpent & Dove and tossed it to me.

I looked at it in confusion while sitting on my bed. "What do I do with this?"

"It's a book. You read it," he said slowly as if I was too dumb to understand it.

"You want me to read right now?"

He looked at my bookcase that was still half empty and grabbed The Hating Game. He read the back and then looked at me. "Are all these books romance novels?"

"Most of them," I nodded, kicking my shoes off.

"Is there any which isn't?"

"I have yet to unpack those," I said cheekily. I'm making someone like Callum read a romance novel. How exciting. "We're going to... read?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it's better than talking."

"That's rude," I scoffed.

"I didn't say it was better than talking to you, just that it was better than talking. Start reading," he said sternly.

I sighed and opened up the book where I had left off and then continued from there.

He sat in the chair and started reading.

"Can't we talk?" I whined, closing the book.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, looking at me over the book.

"Please?" I sounded like a whiny child.

"Fine," he agreed. "What do you want to talk about?"

"First come here," I nodded, patting the free side of the bed.

"No, this is a safe distance for talking."

"What are my words going to do? Bite you? Or are you keeping a distance so you can run out when a question is too hard?" I provoked him.

His jaw ticked and his eyes hardened before he stood up and sat beside me, his body mirroring mine. "Now what?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Isn't that what we just decided you would do?" he groaned.

"What's your favorite color?"

He rolled his eyes again, "Black."

"Favorite season?"

"Spring."

"Favorite sport?"

"Soccer."

"Favorite subject?"

"History. Are we done here?"

"I only asked you four questions," I frowned.

He leaned his head back and kicked his shoes off, pulling his legs up and getting comfortable. "Can't we read for just a little bit? And then you ask me some more questions?" He turned to look at me.

"Fine," I sighed in defeat and we both resumed our reading.

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